


For which love is the honey

by evie_everyday



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur is just utterly whipped for Merlin, Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Declarations Of Love, Declarations of Friendship, Emotionally Constipated Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Flower Crowns, Flower Festival, Golden Age, It's Ridiculous, M/M, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), accidentally married, because im touch starved, but not a fake relationship au, featuring hugs!galore, flowers as symbols, it's sickening, these druids know how to partyyy, they literally just love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evie_everyday/pseuds/evie_everyday
Summary: A year has passed since Arthur repealed the laws against magic in Camelot, and it happens that a druid festival celebrating friendship and love falls around the same time (though Merlin's been too busy to explain exactly what the festival involves, what with his new position as Court Sorcerer and all). Arthur and Merlin spend the day together, and Arthur has never been happier.Featuring pining, fluff, and flowers!One-shot
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 588





	For which love is the honey

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So! This is the first fic I've ever posted. I binged the whole series in...April, I think? and have been in love with it ever since. The title is from a Victor Hugo quote: "Life is the flower for which love is the honey." I just...I really want my idiot boys to be happy, okay? Leave me alone.
> 
> Let me know if you see any typos! I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent mess.

Even if Arthur didn’t quite understand what all the fuss over this druid festival was about, he had to duck behind his bedpost to hide his smile as he watched Merlin flit about the room like a child excited to attend their first real feast. 

Over a year had passed since they’d reversed Uther’s ban on magic, and it had been almost two years since Arthur had opened Merlin’s door in the middle of the night and asked exactly how long he’d thought he could hide the fact that  _ he had magic _ . The unease of those weeks of yelling and silence and tears still made Arthur’s stomach twist with guilt. But sitting on the edge of his bed, watching Merlin grin to himself like the idiot he was, the almost-regret was replaced with a warmth Arthur wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

“ _ Mer _ -lin,” he said finally, realizing he’d been staring for too long. Merlin turned to him and tried to suppress his grin. “I don’t quite understand what you’re doing cleaning up my things. That’s not your job anymore.”

Merlin’s eyes practically sparkled when they met Arthur’s. “Oh, forgive me, Arthur, it’s just that your new servants have everything in the wrong place and it’s annoying me.”

“Right, gods forbid I have servants that put things where they’re supposed to go,  _ Mer _ lin.”

“ _ Ar _ -thur. Sorry,” he conceded when Arthur rolled his eyes, a mix of genuinely apologetic and not sorry at all, so Arthur rolled his eyes again and walked past him, ruffling his hair as he went. He felt Merlin’s eyes on his back as he set his hands on his desk.

A beat passed before he returned the glance. Damn Merlin for seeing through him so easily. “The Druids are still wary of Camelot.” Merlin sat on the edge of Arthur’s bed to retie his boot, an entirely inappropriate place for a king’s sorcerer-ex-manservant to settle, which made Arthur glad he’d had the decency to wait until Arthur had moved across the room. 

“Some of them,” Merlin said quietly, before looking up and settling his eyes on Arthur’s. “But few of them still fear you are trying to round them up and kill them. It’s been long enough now that most believe you to be genuine.” Merlin cracked a grin. “At least you have the most powerful of the lot on your side.” 

Arthur smiled a little but felt hot and heavy guilt turn his blood to sludge. The bed creaked and Merlin’s hand found its way to his shoulder. “Arthur?” One of the few things that made Arthur grow teary were the thoughts of the things he’d done and his complacency in the tyranny over the Druid people and those with magic. It was difficult to feel guilty over the death that came in battle or bandit attacks—it was an unspoken contract that if you tried to kill someone, you consented to dying in the process, or at least Arthur rationalized it that way—but the faces of innocent Druids burned in his eyes no matter how many excuses he gave.

As the image of slaughtered druids littering the grounds at raided camps haunted his thoughts, he turned his head so they could both pretend Merlin didn’t see the wetness in his eyes. Merlin’s hand lingered on his shoulder, and Arthur wished for nothing more than to pull the fool into a tight embrace. He cleared his throat and took a solemn breath. “Perhaps I should stay behind.” Merlin’s hand lifted from his shoulder, gently trailing down to his wrist.

“Arthur, what you did in the past can never be changed. It’s up to you to move forward, and attending a druid festival of friendship and love is an opportunity being handed to you on a silver platter.” He gave Arthur’s wrist a squeeze. “They know that you were young and didn’t know better. They want to see you for who you are now.” Arthur fixed his gaze on Merlin’s glittering eyes and his self-hatred was chased away by the warmth that resided in them.

He twisted his wrist so his hand took Merlin’s. They were always touching one way or another, but this, this moment of unbridled, intentional contact was one of a rare few and it left his cheeks feeling warm.

There was a knock at the door before he could say anything, and he forced himself to let go of Merlin’s hand. “Come in!” As the servant muttered about feast preparations, Arthur watched Merlin shifting on the balls of his feet, his impatience almost endearing. 

He thanked the servant and watched him shuffle out the door before turning back to his friend. 

“Ready, Merlin?” He was giving Arthur a wide-eyed look, like he’d just hung the sun in the sky. “What?” It sounded less annoyed than he intended it to, and Merlin smirked.

“Did I just hear a ‘thank you’ fall from those prattish lips?” 

Arthur would have to thank people more often if it made Merlin look at him like that. “Perhaps.” 

There was the sound of a band beginning to play outside, and Merlin’s excitement surged on his face again. Arthur quirked an eyebrow at the eagerness brightening Merlin’s features. “I didn’t realize you cared for flowers so dearly, Mer-lin.” 

“I seem to recall a number of occasions you were rather put out I didn’t have flowers for you,” Merlin smirked. Arthur couldn’t stop himself as he roughly pulled his friend into a hug. He didn’t know how to express his gratitude or his love for Merlin, but maybe the way he buried his hand in Merlin’s hair and let his face rest by his neck could say it all for him. 

“Have you been enchanted?” Merlin asked after a beat, and Arthur pulled away. 

“Clot pole.” Before Merlin could say it, Arthur grinned. “I know, I know, that’s  _ your _ word. Suits you perfectly.” He grew serious for a moment. “I really don’t say thank you enough, Merlin. None of this could have ever happened without you.” He treasured these odd, tender moments with Merlin, even if he’d never admit it. 

A silence stretched between them as their eyes seemed to melt into each other, and for an instant, Arthur considered leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Gods. Maybe he had been enchanted.

“Yeah, well,” Merlin finally said to break whatever the hell that was, “You were the one who managed not to be a prat about it.” He took a step back so they weren’t practically pressed against one another. “Ready to go?”

When they got down to the courtyard, the sun was shining high in the sky, and Arthur couldn’t help but watch Merlin’s expression turn to delight as the exquisite displays of flowers bloomed all around them. Arthur smiled softly at his friend before managing to school himself into a more kingly expression. “This is incredible,” he murmured, and Merlin elbowed him. 

“Who cares dearly for flowers now, Arthur?” 

Before he could reply, a group of druids approached them. It had been unnerving the first time Merlin conversed silently with the Druids in Arthur’s presence, but he’d grown used to it. He wasn’t confused when their eyes met intensely and Merlin fell silent, but it still frustrated the hell out of him when Merlin began to flush and he had no idea why. 

One of the women laughed and turned to Arthur. “I’m glad that you have chosen to join the festivities, your Majesty.” Merlin coughed, but Arthur ignored him and gave her a warm smile, nodding once. 

“I’m glad your people have deemed Camelot worthy of forgiveness for its crimes. My crimes.” Merlin reached out to subtly bump their hands together, and Arthur watched as some of the Druids eyed the brief touch. 

“Emrys has deemed you worthy of our forgiveness, my lord. We could hardly overlook such a judgement.” Arthur had to swallow back the lump in his throat as he thought about Merlin staying by his side for years, no credit, no appreciation, just for Arthur, forgiving him. 

At first, the lie had stung him, made him furious, made him want to banish Merlin and forget he’d ever existed. But then, as he went to confront Merlin, he’d overheard a hushed conversation as he stood outside the door.

_ “I’m going to lose my mind, Gaius, keeping this from him. I feel like I’m betraying his loyalty every time I save his bloody life.” _

__

_ “It’s for his own good, Merlin. You know that.” _

__

_ “You know—you know how Arthur has bent the rules for me before. He wouldn’t execute me, I know that. I know that. I know I can never make him choose between me and Camelot because it will always be Camelot. But—Gaius—sometimes he’s just there and he’s just  _ Arthur _ and I want there to be no secrets between us.” _

__

_ “Merlin, my boy. Letting yourself get so worked up over this won’t do you any good. You must do what you must do for the sake of Camelot _ .  _ Of Albion _ ” 

__

_ “I just…I feel like I’m going to hurt him, in the long run, Gaius. I bloody hate destiny.” _

Arthur looked back to the group of druids and watched the woman present Merlin with a circlet of flowers, all different shades of purple and white. Merlin thanked her profusely, and the woman set it around his wrist. She smiled at him. “I expect you will receive a number of crowns today. I do not wish to take the honored place upon your brow.” Merlin blushed again as he thanked her profusely. 

“Flower crowns?” Arthur asked as they walked away, and Merlin froze. 

“I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?” Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin’s widened in utter panic.

“Apparently you’re as inept a court sorcerer as you are a manservant.” 

Merlin pushed Arthur lightly, his face relaxing even as he realized the mistake he’d made. “Prat. I don’t have to tell you. I’ll let you make an ass of yourself.” Arthur stopped walking and pouted at him. Merlin continued walking for a moment but couldn’t ignore Arthur’s gaze for long. “Fine. It’s traditional that flower crowns are given as gifts during the festival to display gratitude, affection, and good will.” 

Arthur raised his eyebrows, lips twitching with a withheld smirk. “Is that why you blushed like a virgin back there? Did she present her…affections?” Merlin laughed a little too loudly before shaking his head, the aforementioned blush creeping back up his neck.

“Just good will, you prat. I am quite powerful, you see. It’s only a good idea to keep me in your good graces.”

“Good graces? Last I checked the only grace you had was your incredible aptitude for scaring away game on hunts.”

“So why do you always insist I come with you? You have plenty of bloodthirsty brutes to keep you company.”

“If there’s ever a lack of game, Merlin, you’ll make splendid target practice.”

“King of Camelot, my arse. King of prats, more like.” Arthur felt a fierce fondness in his gut as Merlin began describing his ineptitude with words Arthur was pretty sure he made up on the spot.

Ever since the laws had been passed, Merlin had been so busy with the stress of revising them and diplomacy and the burden of being thrust into the spotlight that they hadn’t had enough chances to walk in stride like this of late. ‘

They stepped into the shade of the marketplace, and Merlin ended his insincere tirade. Vendors with colorful crowns and bouquets and music crowded the narrow street, and Arthur used the tightness of the space as an excuse to let their arms brush against each other.

“Really, though, Merlin. What did she say to you?” He watched Merlin open his mouth and close it again. If he didn’t know any better, Arthur might’ve said he looked guilty, but the expression faded after a moment. 

“Just the usual. Most powerful sorcerer, uniting the people at your side, all that.” Arthur snorted.

“Only you would turn the color of a tomato when people explain your job title to—” A familiar set of eyes suddenly met his, and his words trailed off. 

Gwen stood at one of the booths, her arm around Lancelot’s, and she offered him a friendly smile. The odd relief that had shadowed their friendship since they’d formally ended their courtship and she’d married Lancelot surged in Arthur’s chest and he gave her a small nod.

“Who are you—oh, Gwen! Lance!” Merlin gave an affectionate wave in their direction.” Arthur watched his friends wave back with a smile before Gwen turned to Lancelot and set a crown matching hers on his head. 

Arthur felt Merlin looking at him. There was a question in his eyes, the same question he’d been asking for over a year now, and Arthur sighed. “Merlin. Really. There are no hard feelings. I’m pleased to see them so happy.” 

Merlin’s lips were parted as if he still planned to speak, but Arthur gave him a threatening look. 

“Alright. Alright. I’ll stop asking.” His face softened when he saw the sincerity in Arthur’s eyes. Before he could say anything else, a woman walked up to them. 

“Merlin! It’s good to see you.” Merlin smiled at her and accepted the offered hug unthinkingly. Arthur smiled at how much the people of Camelot loved Merlin. 

“Leona! I hope you’re well?” She smiled at him. 

“Thanks to you, my boy. It’s a shame you’re so busy angering all those old codgers in court. You would have made a wonderful physician.”

“All in a day’s work.” 

Leona smiled and held out a crown. This one was blue and green, and Arthur knew it had to be magic. No flowers were that vibrant. “Here, dear. A thank you from Robert and I.” Merlin accepted it with a grin and gave her another hug. 

She turned to Arthur and curtseyed. “Your Majesty.” Arthur smiled at her a bit too rigidly. He kissed her hand as he would any lady’s. 

“I hope you have a lovely day, Madam. Enjoy the festivities.” 

In the quarter of an hour between when they entered and when they got to the other side of the market, Merlin obtained an absurd number of crowns. It seemed as though every person they came across either wanted to give Emrys their good will or had been personally helped by Merlin at some point. Arthur’s heart swelled with pride that he could call this wonder of a person his friend.

They emerged from the market and stood by the city wall, far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the celebrants that Arthur could hear himself think. 

“Could you make one, if you wanted to?” Arthur flushed when Merlin looked at him curiously and nodded.

“Sure. Give me your hands.” Arthur obeyed without thinking. 

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and a circlet began to form between their hands, bluebells and heliotropes and impossibly small pink and red roses nestled between them forming a beautiful arrangement over light green stems and the leaves of ferns. Some of the stems seemed to turn silver and gold in the light as they pulled the flowers together, somehow unnatural and natural at the same time. 

Arthur held the completed crown gingerly. Merlin tugged it away, brushing some hair off of Arthur’s forehead. It wasn’t unlike how he used to place the real crown on his head, quietly, almost reverently, and the look in his eyes as he stepped back to see how it looked made Arthur feel utterly exposed. 

“I always knew you had a thing for flowers, Merlin.” 

Merlin laughed at the familiar voice and shoved Gwaine’s shoulder as he appeared next to them. He raised his hands in protest and continued to laugh when Gwaine mock-fought him. Arthur watched them with what could only be jealousy that he could never be so casually affectionate in public.

At times like this, he’d let his mind wander. In his daydreams, he and Merlin lived on a beautiful farm. Maybe somewhere outside of Camelot, far away where the world was colorful and warm and quiet. Merlin’s magic turned the land into a paradise, something he didn’t have to hide and could use to make the world beautiful without holding back. They’d be able to be whatever they wanted to be, damn what the world said. 

Of course, he cared far too much to ever really leave Camelot, but he let himself feel a little grief for what the life of a king did not allow during moments like this. 

He blinked back to the real world where another group of Druids approached them. One of the women bowed before Arthur instead of Merlin, grabbing at his hand. Before he or his knights could react, the two other women in her group had pulled her away wordlessly, coming between them.

“Limi! Will you disrespect the Chosen of Emrys in this way?” She turned to Merlin, the grey streaks in her hair seeming to glow in the sun. “Forgive her, Emrys. She is young and does not yet understand the world.”

Merlin smiled at her. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. Really.” Their eyes were too intensely locked to not be speaking with each other, and Merlin’s ears turned red yet again. If it wasn’t so bloody obvious it wouldn’t bother Arthur, but Merlin’s frankly ridiculous ears were impossible to ignore.

“Good day, my lords. It was a pleasure to meet you,” the woman said suddenly, pulling her two companions away and muttering her displeasure quietly.

“What was that about?” Gwaine asked, and Merlin glared at him.

Arthur turned to Merlin. “What did she mean, chosen?” By the shade of red Merlin’s face was quickly turning, Arthur could guess, at least a little. He glanced toward the group of knights that had joined them, and it was Leon that took the hint. As they stepped away, Merlin gave him a look like a child caught stealing.

“Well, you know how I set up the enchantment so that all magic attempted against you would be filtered through me first? I had to mask the signature of that enchantment. And it’s rather powerful, so the only way I could get it to work was to…mark you. As mine.” Gwaine snorted in the background, but Arthur didn’t want to deal with him because the thought of Merlin marking him as his was shoving a lot of uncouth thoughts into his mind, and getting his attention away from the thought of Merlin claiming him in public was taking all of his focus.

“Yes, you dollophead, but what does it mean that I’m your  _ Chosen _ ?” 

Merlin cringed, looking a bit green. “Ah. Well. The Druids—they usually use it in…marriage ceremonies.” Then Arthur was blushing because he did  _ not _ expect this for today. 

“Are you trying to tell me, Merlin, that you married us in Druid custom  _ without telling me _ ?”

Merlin sputtered indignantly. “You weren’t supposed to know!” 

“And that’s supposed to make it better?”

This was all too ridiculous for him not to be dreaming. Arthur was not—could never be married to Merlin by any bloody custom. “I’m just trying to protect you, you prat! It’s not my fault that marking you as my Chosen happened to be the best way to do that!” 

“Is that why no one is giving me crowns? I thought it was because they still hated me, but no,  _ Mer- _ lin, it’s because they’re terrified their prophesied leader will come after them like a—like a husband protecting his bloody wife’s virtue! How long has this been going on?” 

Merlin had the decency to look guilty. “A few…months. Since I started filtering magic for you.”

“We’ve been married for  _ months _ and you haven’t bothered to tell me?” 

“I wasn’t telling you because you’re an idiot and would make me remove it even though it’s the only way I can know for certain that you’re safe!”

Arthur stared at him. “Why would I ask you to remove it?” 

Merlin stared right back. “Arthur, I understand that I violated your trust. I could try to find another way—”

Arthur held up a hand. “If you think this is the best way to protect me, I bloody well trust your judgement. You’d’ve found another way if there was one.” 

“I could probably try harder—” 

“You are not going to try harder. You are going to leave it as it as.” 

“But—”

“I’m the king, Merlin. You have to do as I say.” As he tried to stalk away, Merlin raised his eyebrows. 

“I can’t remember the last time you pulled rank. You—you really want to keep it in place?” 

Arthur watched Merlin’s eyes soften as he grabbed his wrist, and for an instant, he let the tenderness of their moment earlier that morning take control of his words again. “It’s the closest thing—I’ll never be—there can’t—yes. I feel better knowing it’s in place.” He said it almost silently, feeling the eyes of the knights a few meters away respectfully pointed in the other direction.

Arthur felt his chest ache with wanting to be able to love Merlin as openly as he deserved, so he turned to walk away again before his stupidity made him do something stupid, like say he loved Merlin with all his bloody soul and would absolutely marry him in every custom right on the spot if he asked.

Merlin’s eyes followed him as he relented his grip and walked away. 

“All that joking about you arguing like an old married couple—” 

“Gwaine, I will have you beheaded if you say another word.” 

The next few minutes passed in a haze of slight awkwardness, with Arthur hardly looking at Merlin, but soon they slipped back into their regular rhythm and Arthur found himself having more fun than he’d had in ages.

As the sun began to set, Arthur noticed people begin to leave the marketplace, trailing flowers along the path they were collectively taking. “Where is everyone going?” Arthur asked, and Merlin cringed.

“Did I not tell you about the bonfire either?” 

Arthur let the silence stretch on for a moment, grinning to himself as Merlin squirmed. “No. You did not.” 

Merlin groaned. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I mean that, jokes aside. With the wards and the druids and the  _ delegations _ , so many bloody  _ delegations _ , I really did a terrible job preparing you for such an important event.” Arthur watched the apology reach Merlin’s eyes and nearly stopped in the middle of the street to take in how Merlin looked in that moment, flower crowns draped over his arms, the cool breeze ruffling his hair, the setting sun reflecting in his apologetic eyes. 

Dammit. He had to get this…longing…under control, or he was going to do something stupid.

Teasing. Yes, teasing was what they always did.  _ You clot pole, forgetting to tell me something so important. I might have to find another court sorcerer. I suppose anyone would do better, so long as they don’t make brass jokes _ . Easy. Just like always.

“You’ve been doing so much,  _ have _ done so much for Camelot. I couldn’t care less that you were too busy to tell me these details.” 

That was not at all what he meant to say. And worse, he couldn’t even play it off as teasing because Merlin had stopped walking and was staring at him, lips parted, eyes shining. 

“I—thank you.” It was the gratitude of someone who spent too long never expecting to receive any themselves, and Arthur tried to dispel the sudden seriousness by nudging their shoulders together as he started walking again.

“Though if you could tell me now?” 

Merlin laughed a little awkwardly. “Right. Of course. The bonfire.” As he launched into some explanation of how fire was considered cleansing and the bonfire served as a symbolic, this-is-a-new-season type of thing, Arthur felt himself focusing on Merlin’s long fingers gesturing as he spoke and how badly he wanted to take them in his own. 

Gods above, he had to be enchanted. He’d never had this much trouble shoving back his thoughts about Merlin before. But then again, Merlin was filtering enchantments, so he would know if something had been done to him. Which, to be honest, almost made it worse because it meant it was just Arthur’s feelings. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was feelings. They were messy, and annoying, and he had far too many of them for a king, which his father would’ve been sure to tell him if he were alive, and-- 

“Arthur?” Merlin was looking at him, and he blinked.

“Sorry?”

Merlin shook his head amusedly. “You’ve been easily distracted today. Are you feeling alright?” He reached up to feel Arthur’s forehead, flowers brushing Arthur’s face as he did. Arthur involuntarily took a step back.

“I’m fine. Really. What were you saying?”

“I was  _ saying _ ,” Merlin returned his arm to balancing the absurd number of crowns decorating it, “would you like to go to the bonfire now or spend a few more minutes here?” 

“Whatever you’d like,” Arthur said, too quickly, and Merlin quirked an eyebrow as if to say  _ you sure you’re alright _ ? but remained silent. 

“I’d like to stay a moment longer. You can help me pick out crowns for these fools,” he said, tipping his head to indicate the knights. He went to one of the stalls, and Arthur followed beside him without protest.

The young woman at the booth brushed her light brown hair out of her wide eyes as they approached. 

“My lord Emrys,” she said delightedly, and Merlin looked marvelously awkward once again. Arthur tried to cover a laugh but found himself blushing when the woman acknowledged him. “I’m pleased to meet the Chosen of Emrys.”

Merlin coughed conspicuously, and Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. “I’m beginning to think people have forgotten I’m also the king of Camelot.” The woman smiled knowingly at him. 

“There will always be kings, my lord.” 

“There will,” Arthur finally decided to respond, though from the gleam in her eyes he supposed it revealed more than he meant it to. Their attention turned to Merlin as he rifled through the display appreciatively. 

Merlin shook his head out of nowhere, and it pained Arthur to realize they’d been conversing the entire time. “Of course I will pay you for my selections, don’t be silly.” He picked up a wreath made of delicate white blossoms interspersed with colorful pansies and grinned. “This will suit Gwaine perfectly.”

“Unconditional friendship, joy, and love. A lovely selection,” the woman said warmly, and Merlin shared a smile with her. He handed the crown to Arthur to hold and continued to browse.

The sky was nearly dark as Merlin made his final choices. When he went to present the crowns to the knights, Arthur hesitated at the booth. The flickering torches lit moments before seemed to enrich the colors, the shadows giving each blossom an almost eerie sort of definition. 

A simple ringlet in the corner drew his attention. There were no giant flowers or elegant arrangements or brightly colored blossoms. He recognized some of the flowers as forget-me-nots and others as orange blossoms, but they were few among the green stems braided prettily into each other. 

“Please. It’s a gift,” the woman said as he tried to pay her for it, and Arthur knew from the look in her eyes she wouldn’t take no for an answer. He thanked her and rejoined his knights, feeling suddenly nervous.

Which was ridiculous, because Merlin was bestowing crowns on the heads of all the knights, laughing as he struggled to get the last crown onto Percival who refused to lean over at Gwaine’s behest, and because Merlin was his friend too and deserved a crown from Arthur. Plus, he’d already presented one to Arthur, which meant it wasn’t a big deal for Arthur to give him one in return.

When he made it over to the group, Percival was being held by Elyan and Leon as Merlin stood on a crate.

“Don’t they look pretty?” Merlin teased, smiling, and Gwaine took the joking with a smirk.

“You say it as if it’s surprising, Merls.” 

As the knights laughed and Merlin stepped towards him, Arthur felt his heart leap into his throat. He held out his gift much more forcefully than he intended. 

“Here,” he said gruffly. The soft look in Merlin’s eyes almost made him melt, which was ridiculous, because kings. did. not. melt.

“Is this a gift or the new court sorcerer uniform?” 

Arthur huffed. “Just take it, you clot pole.” He was glad it was nearly dark because he was blushing all the way to his toes. He tried to put it around Merlin’s arm with the others, but Merlin pulled back. 

“I’ll wear this one.” 

Arthur couldn’t breathe as he nodded and lifted the crown onto Merlin’s head. 

In that moment, covered with flowers and glowing with contentment, he looked utterly perfect. 

A long moment passed where Arthur held onto the crown, his arms awkwardly suspended by Merlin’s temples. 

Then their eyes met, and Merlin smiled at him. “Thank you.” He pulled Arthur into a delicate hug, careful not to crush any of his flowers, and Arthur continued his effort to not melt. Any lingering awkwardness at the whole Chosen thing dispelled as Merlin squeezed his shoulder.

“I know you’re hugging me to hide the fact that you’re crying, you great softie,” Arthur teased, and he felt Merlin flick his neck. 

“Prat.” He pulled away, grinning madly. “Let’s go to the bonfire.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I give the orders, Merlin.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes right back. “Of course you do,  _ sire _ .” 

The path of flowers Arthur had seen the groups forming was now brightly lit, colored flames and glowing lights guiding the way to the forest where a bright bonfire was distantly visible. Arthur looked over to say something to Merlin but stopped when he saw Merlin lightly touching the crown on his head, a soft smile on his lips. 

They remained in contented silence as they joined the flood of people heading towards the forest. They must have been a sight—the king, his sorcerer, and his best knights all striding down the street drowning in flowers and laughter. 

The years Arthur spent as prince under Uther, the years spent in persecution and violence suddenly seemed a cruel waste of time. Arthur never could’ve imagined this during that. He was walking  _ unarmed _ down his streets, partaking in a druid festival, and having quite possibly the best day of his life, all because he’d stopped the persecution of magic.

All those years he’d spent fighting for peace, without any idea what it was really like.

“Don’t think too hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” Merlin teased, elbowing him through a shield of flowers. By Arthur’s side, as he always was. 

“And then who would be there to remind you you’re an idiot,” Arthur replied easily, and Merlin’s soft smile was replaced with a cheeky one. 

“I think Leon’d be willing to take that on,” he mused, “or at least he’d be nice about it.”

They continued teasing each other until they got closer to the bonfire, where they fell silent to take in the sights and sounds. 

Arthur had never been to a festival like this before, so the joyous music and dancing were an unfamiliar sight. His experience with dancing was limited to the stuffy formalities of court celebrations and perhaps the performance of a few jesters over the years. Never anything like this absolute madness as people spun each other around with no apparent rhyme or reason.

Merlin grinned at his awe. “Is this too much for your royal sensibilities,  _ my lord _ ?” 

Arthur was too distracted by the sound of music and laughter and pure happiness to more than mumble an answer. 

Before he could revise that answer to something of substance, the song came to an end and a hush fell over the crowd.

“My lord Emrys, we are honored you have joined our festivities.”

Arthur grinned as the familiar druid man—Iseldir—made Merlin’s ears turn red for the umpteenth time that day. He smiled shyly and nodded to him. 

“It’s my honor, and King Arthur’s, that the druids have been so open to finding a peaceful place in Camelot once more. What has been achieved over the past year would not have been possible without the displays of repentance, forgiveness, and compassion I have been privileged to bear witness to.” The applause in the crowd and celebratory cheering brought a smile to Arthur’s lips.

“It is traditional during this festival to give public avowals of friendship and love,” Iseldir said, both to Merlin and those from Camelot unfamiliar with the exact customs. “We would be honored, Emrys, if you and your Chosen would start off the night.” Another round of cheering began as Merlin looked at Arthur with an apology in his eyes, but Arthur just smiled at him and nodded his consent. To say no would be a strike against the very young trust between them.

“Alright.” 

There was a brief applause and some more cheering (courtesy of Gwaine) as Merlin stepped into the clear space by the bonfire Iseldir gestured to. 

“So.” The crowd quieted, and Arthur was once again impressed by how much power Merlin had over them with so little effort. Merlin didn’t seem to notice as he met Arthur’s eyes with a smirk. “When I met Prince Arthur for the first time, he was a right prat, so I told him so.” There was laughing in the crowd, and it made Arthur smile to think of that meeting. Whatever wounded pride he should’ve felt was replaced with pride for the king he’d become.

“When I found out he was the prince, I told him that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a prat, and he challenged me, this skinny boy from a farming village, to a mace fight. And after I managed to get out of that fight unscathed, I accidently saved him from a vengeful sorceress and was given the absolute honor of being his manservant.” For all his useless prattling, Merlin could tell a story quite well. The entire crowd, even those who already knew the story, were captivated by the way he wove his words.

“I spent almost a decade running after him,” he continued, “polishing his armor, washing his socks, saving his life from the ridiculous number of people and creatures that wished him dead. During that time, I watched him turn from a spoiled prince I nearly wanted to kill myself—and that isn’t treason, I said  _ nearly _ —to a tolerable one. And then I got to watch him become one of the most honorable and compassionate people I know. And I only say one of because I have been privileged to know a great deal of honorable and compassionate people, many of whom are here tonight.” 

He took a breath as Arthur finally let his out. “He spent years saying we could never be friends even as he acted as a true friend, and I am proud to be able to stand here today and call him one without getting a shoe thrown at my head.” There was more laughter, and Arthur would’ve joined in if the realization that he would have to speak soon wasn’t filling him with nervousness.

“I have seen up close the sacrifices you have made for your love of Camelot from your side, and I am honored to call you my king, and I will be proud to call you my friend until, and beyond, the day I die.”

He smiled and ducked his head bashfully as people cheered. When they stepped past each other and switched places, Arthur gave him what he hoped was a grateful look even as he felt ready to wet himself. 

The fire was warm at his back where he stood, and he had to clear his throat a few times before he could get his voice to work. “I think…I think Merlin knows better than anyone how rubbish I am at talking about feelings, since he’s put up with me for so long.” There were laughs at the king’s self-deprecation, and it gladdened Arthur to see he didn’t need to rule out of fear. 

He cleared his throat again, avoiding Merlin’s gaze. “Actually, I’m pretty certain Merlin knows me better than I know myself. He has always known exactly what I need, even when I don’t have any idea.” He smiled to himself. “He is the single most compassionate, brave, and humble man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He spent years serving me with fierce loyalty despite the injustices he faced in Camelot simply for the hope of a better future. He never asked for credit, no matter how much he suffered in the name of Camelot and the future he dreamed of. He was never afraid to speak to me honestly, even when anyone in their right mind would have fired him for the things he said. And I am a better man for it. I would not be the man or king I am today had it not been for Merlin’s steadfast honesty and counsel.”

The feelings that had been pulsing at the base of his throat all day begged to be put into words, and Arthur needed a moment to figure out how to prescribe some to the overwhelming tangle of feelings. 

“Merlin, you are…infuriating. Infuriatingly stubborn, and infuriatingly loyal, and infuriatingly hopeful. But you are also infuriatingly dear to me. Your presence in my life has altered the course it has taken, and I don’t thank you enough for that.” His heart found new speed as he pressed on. “What I feel for you is more than fondness, more than friendship, more than love. More than a shared destiny.” He could feel his voice shaking and hoped it wasn’t audible in the dead silence of the crowd. He took a steadying breath. “You are woven into the very fabric of my being, and I will be eternally grateful for knowing you.”

He finally looked up as people cheered loudly, searching for Merlin. He glanced over the faces of his knights, who looked moved, and Guinevere, who looked fiercely proud of him.

Then his eyes found Merlin, and the world slipped back into place. For someone who was always near tears, Arthur was surprised to find him dry-faced, and for a moment, concerned that he’d not sounded sincere.

But when Arthur’s feet led him back to his friend and Merlin’s arms wrapped tightly around him, he knew that he’d said exactly what needed to be said.

His father was probably shouting at him in the afterlife for daring to show such affection in public, but Arthur was in Merlin’s arms, exactly where he belonged, and he found he couldn’t care less. 

  
  



End file.
